Oh when these winter winds they blow
One cannot out and paint the snow
No more a dog with dreams of cats
Can choose to live amongst the rats.
Oh these winter winds are harsh to skin
They chill and burn the soul within
Your light: my shield from most the pain
But distance equals intimate refrain.
Oh these winter winds carry no voice
Not by design but simply choice
And I can’t hear a word you speak
And I can’t hear you should you weep.
No answer now to question rhetoric
Our thoughts are these so symbiotic
Yet thoughts are naught when we this way
Can merely think things wished to say.
These winter winds should turn to spring
When awakened birds begin to sing
And if we should find ourselves now thawed
We can laugh out loud at logic flawed.
© Kris Blackburn 27/02/13